


where the tear stain dries

by heavyskeleton



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Frank Iero Is A Sweetheart, Gerard Is Sleeping, M/M, Ridiculously Domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25528831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyskeleton/pseuds/heavyskeleton
Summary: An ode to shared imperfections.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	where the tear stain dries

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i'm really nervous posting this as i dont normally write and this is my first fic but i would absolutely love constructive criticism. 
> 
> this was formed from a place of personal sadness as i was contemplating flaws and what defines them but it has been a really honestly great release to write this although i really didnt know how to end it so its a kind of rushed that is very
> 
> also neither of the characters in this are era specific so you can absolutely picture any eras you want!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading! have a great day and be kind to others xo

Some things are unavoidable. No matter how much you try to avoid it, regardless of how many layers you bundle yourself in for a five minute fucking trip to the supermarket - seriously, how many scarves can one person actually own? 

Really, Frank thinks, he shouldn’t be surprised at all when he wakes up in the middle of the night in the first week of December with an achingly scratchy throat and a tight stomach. 

Dealing with the devil sickness is second nature by now, that familiar sandpaper throat almost reassuring at this point, but that doesn't mean Frank is any happier sliding out of bed to make himself a cup of tea, tripping over dog toys - and dogs - on the way. 

The eerie silence in the kitchen is broken only by the rhythmic clicking of paws on the worn tile flooring and the light scratching of older bones on the gate past the dining table. Taking a quick detour while the kettle boils to visit the quiet - but no less excited - pups, Frank notices a jar of grey tinted water on the counter. Smiling softly and shaking his head, he pours the water down the drain but makes a mental note to discuss it with Gerard. 

After all, keeping a christmas present a secret is a serious task made less effective by leaving various paint stained jars and mugs across the house you share with the recipient of the gift. Frank thinks he could run a healthy bet with Mikey about what exactly Gerard is painting him for Christmas - it’s likely they would both win. 

Getting back into bed is the difficult part. Despite being a notoriously heavy sleeper, Gerard has always had a talent for waking up at the worst times, seeming to always wake up to the slightest of noises or movement from his husband - especially when Frank’s breath sounds as croaky and harsh as it does just now. 

Holding his breath (with great difficulty), Frank gently places his mug on the bedside table, pushing empty cigarette packets and scrap paper out of the way. 

Just as he is about to climb into bed, Frank catches sight of the soft skin of Gerard’s stomach, covered only by his left hand resting just below his loose t-shirt. It’s a paralysing sight to see his husband so unashamed, so vulnerable. 

The visual of the silver wedding ring, which looks dull in the amber light from the street lamp peeking through the curtain, but no less beautiful, against the rarely seen skin is enough to make Frank’s breath hitch. Shifting his gaze to Gerard’s face, Frank notices the wrinkles under his eyes and around his gentle smile - a symptom of what Frank hopes is a pleasant dream. 

Lying with his head curled slightly into his chest, Gerard has a slight double chin which looks soft and comforting. Frank would never admit it, but being the little spoon is made infinitely better when Gerard’s chin hooks over his shoulder and the short hairs of his beard tickle his skin, velvet smooth. 

Every line, crease, wrinkle and fold in Gerard’s body is a pocket. A tiny compartment for Frank to hide kisses and secrets in. A way to hold their bond with them even when they are separate. Frank knows there are places Gerard uses on his own skin for the same purpose; the blank space behind his ear, the centre of his lower back where his tattooed handguns cross. Their bodies are empty canvases and their hands, voices, thoughts are the paint. 

Deciding he can’t wait any longer to touch Gerard, to feel the kisses and hear the whispers in his skin, Frank lays down, trying not to wake his partner - and failing spectacularly. 

“Mngh...frgh turnd..” Gerard mutters, face smushed into the pillow before shuffling over and flopping his arm down on Frank’s stomach hard enough that Frank had to bite his tongue so as not to cry out and fully wake his lover. As Gerard slots his head comfortably on Frank’s chest - making frustrated noises when his neck begins to hurt - Frank notices the drool marks on Gerard’s pillow. 

Smiling blissfully, Frank can’t help but run his hands through his husband’s hair, gently pulling through the small knots as he listens to the peaceful sounds of Gerard’s breathing. 

As Frank uses his other hand to drink his rapidly cooling tea, the two men lay there in the quiet hum of the early morning, Gerard’s mind a shaky swirl of fantasy and reality as he struggles to hang onto the last wisps of his dream through they dissolve like smoke in the clean air. 

And despite the ache of his chest, how dry his throat seems even as he drinks, Frank doesn’t think he has ever been more content in his life. The chest pain seems infinitesimal compared to the warmth he feels in his heart and the adoration he feels for the man currently causing an impressive drool stain on his shirt.


End file.
